


Under the Mistletoe

by blurryfaceimagines



Series: Wincest Love Week ~ 4 [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Lives, First Kisses, Ice Skater Dean, M/M, Mistletoe, Sam is a huge fan, Swesson, Wincest - Freeform, Zachariah Being a Dick, cuteness, dean almost gets attacked, fluff overload!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:03:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurryfaceimagines/pseuds/blurryfaceimagines
Summary: Saturday's Prompts:  Ice rink &  Mistletoe (First kiss maybe?)Sam is scared of what his recent abilities mean. What scares him most is seeing his favorite idol become the next victim in his dreams, and he takes it upon himself to stop that from happening at all costs.





	

It was just as the panic was starting to sink in that Dean responded by pressing harder against him, by what Sam assumed was standing on his tiptoes, to deepen the kiss. Sam was too lost in the magic of the delicate but firm pressure against his lips to be properly awed at having kissed Dean friggin Smith and not being punched in the face.

  
Feeling the intense burn in his lungs from lack of oxygen, he brought up a hand to Dean's face, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly over his defined jawline before tilting his face up so they could kiss and not have to break away for breath. Doing so earned him a huffed a huffed laugh from the other before he pulled away, giving Sam a wry smile and taking a glance at the ceiling above them.

  
"Did ya plan it?"

 

* * *

 

  
It had happened with unexpected perfection. Like clockwork, Sam would think- if he was just sure someone was behind the whole thing. He wasn't a skeptic, not really, but even he would need solid proof of someone directing the show or pulling the strings from behind a curtain. Because nothing this seemingly good could just be a coincidence, and Sam's head was starting to pound just thinking about how his life had been a constant whirlwind of seemingly small changes since weeks ago.

  
So he decided not to dwell on it too much, for his own sanity's sake; choosing instead to be grateful he had an opening to end this whole thing. To end the horror show his life had become since that night three weeks ago- with the nightmares which, if he didn't know better, he would have labelled as visions.  
But that was stupid, right? Those things didn't happen outside of cheesy movies and TV shows and kids books.

  
Only, Sam's 'dreams' felt too vivid to just dreams. Dreams where he lead another, a very different, life. A life on the road with a person he had ever admired, and sometimes admittedly had had dirty dreams about, as a relative. A brother, to be more specific.

  
If that wasn't weird enough, they lived a life constantly on the road, drifting from town to town, to city to state; hunting things that, again, were only supposed to exist in nightmares and behind TV screens.

  
The ones that didn't involve this weird, alternate life of his, Sam deemed worse. Because those would show people dying horrible deaths; and if the fact that it's impossible to dream of people you've never seen didn't seem to apply to those damn dreams, then he probably hit the jackpot on weirdness because the whole thing was made so much worse when the deaths started appearing in the news. Each death having been predicted to have happened exactly the way Sam had seen them happen.

  
Which was how Sam had known he had to get to Dean Smith's next show- no matter it being a state over and very highly priced for someone like Sam Wesson from Sandover's tech support.

  
So it came as a surprise to him when Sandy from two cubicles over came up to his cube and dropped a ticket at his desk to the figure skating he had wanted to sell his arm to go to. Even more so than ever before because Dean Smith coming to perform a state over being the closes to Sam's location he had ever come on one side, Sam's most recent 'dreams' involving the star had steadily become more nightmarish than dreamy.

  
And, okay, he had never had it perfect in his life, and even at the start of the dreams it meant he would go to sleep equal parts hopeful and dreadful because on the one hand there was his alternate life with Dean, but on the other hand he would see people die before it would actually happen? Cherry on top being, of course, that he never knew which he would see beforehand.

  
And for a while he was satisfied knowing it couldn't get worse. But get worse it did! And now he had to stop Dean dying. Sam had no idea how he would do it- no thought out plan on how he would put a stop to it, but knowing what he did, he wasn't going to let his idol die like that!

 

So he thanked Sandy profusely before asking why she was giving the ticket to him anyway. Girl just gave him a one-shouldered shrug and took a moment to pop the bubble she'd just made between her teeth and fixed him with that usual blank, uninterested stare of hers.

  
"It was my sister's, but she gave it to me cuz she can't go- last minute changes n' all. I'm not interested at all, and practically the whole building knows how much you're int ice skating shows," and she'd been gone before Sam could utter another lame 'thank you.'

  
Sam was pulled back to the present by the high-pitched giggles and excited whispers between the girls sat beside him. Despite his nerves at what he was supposed to do in a bit- and having no idea still how he'd go about doing it, Sam felt a smile quirk his lips at what he caught on. Not that he was trying to eavesdrop. The girls were apparently huge fans of Dean too and were getting more excited by the minute since he was up next.

  
'Time already, huh?,' Sam thought to himself , inching forward in his seat. He scoffed at himself then- it's not like he could get any better of a view; he still felt the whole thing to be surreal, getting to not only see Dean Smith live, but getting one of the best seats as well? That Sandy's sister seemed to be loaded!

  
Despite having been in close proximity with the star in so many dreams, enough to sometimes be able to count the freckles dusted across what delicate face of his, Sam's heart skipped a beat as the skater glided onto the rink- no better description that breathtakingly beautiful for even just the entrance.

  
Sia's Elastic Heart was an unusual choice for a figure skating event, but that was Smith for you- never dancing to overused mainstream songs. Sam settled in, unable to wipe off the the giddy, probably more goofy, grin he knew he was wearing.

* * *

 

  
Sam didn't wait to watch Dean be showered with roses and flower petals as the crowd cheered and applauded a performance obviously well done. In fact, Sam was out of his seat and already rushing to where the skaters went off to change into their regular attire after their performance to wait for Dean. Possibly a very bad move, he knew, but he had also run out of time and options to come up with anything better.

 

* * *

 

  
It took about twenty anxiety-ridden minutes for Dean to make it to the back room. Which was thankfully empty!

  
Dean plopped down on the only wooden bench with a grunt and started gingerly working on removing his skates. He loved his skates- he really did! But on show-nights he kind of wished he didn't have to wear them. All. Damn. Day. Unlike how his manager always made him wear them hours before the actual event for 'warm up.'

  
"Um... Excuse me?"

  
Dean's head immediately shot up at the unexpected voice, heart in his throat, and his eyes narrowed at the hulking owner of said voice.

Okay, the decidedly handsome, hulking owner of said voice.

  
"Can I help you?" Dean asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he got up to his feet, keeping a cautious eye on the man for any sudden movements. And wasn't this just awesome- the dude was at least a whole head taller than him! It was hard not to feel offended- hey, Dean was quite tall!

And somewhat concerned for his safety. But that was something he wasn't going to let the other guy even think about, lest it gave him a confidence boost to attack Dean.

  
"Y-You're in danger!"

  
What the hell? Why did all attractive people have to be psychos?  
Correction: not all attractive people- be cause Dean wasn't!

  
"'Scuse me?" Yeah. Very eloquent, Dean.

  
The other man looked pained for a moment and he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a supposedly calming breath before holding out a placating hand. As if he's trying to calm a spooked animal, Dean noted with a touch of annoyance.

  
Well, he's not wrong- you are spooked. And that damned voice needed to shut up right now!

  
"My name is Sam. Sam Wesson. And I know this seems crazy and is probably downright creepy for you, but I just...! I knew I had to warn you and stop anything bad from happening."

  
Now pissed off and afraid, Dean crossed his arms across his chest and was about to tell this 'Sam' guy- if that was even his name, to take his heroic angst elsewhere when something slammed into him from the back.

  
He could hear Sam's vice shouting for him, sounding far off and too frantic for someone intending to kill him.

  
Groaning, Dean pushed up so he was at least sitting up now, legs still sprawled open. His vision starting to clear again, he could make out Sam struggling to hold someone in place.

  
Dean immediately shot to his feet as he realized the guy had come to seriously hurt him- and if this 'Sam Wesson' wasn't with him, Dean still wanted to know how he had known someone would attack him today.

  
First things first, though! They had to get rid of his very dangerous assailant. And unmask the bastard too!

  
Wesson seemed to be having a hard time getting the man's rather heavy looking weapon away from while trying to keep him from lunging at Dean, and dodging flailing hits aimed at him.

  
Falling to his knees, Dean quickly grabbed hold of the thing in closest reach and flung it at the guys head.

  
The whole thing could have gone wrong. It could have hit Sam instead, but they seemed to have been lucky when his heavy skate collided with their mystery man's head, instantly knocking him out cold.

  
"I am awesome," Dean breathed, at the same time Sam yelled a reprimanding "Dude!"

  
Okay... He hadn't expected that tone of voice...  
Dean forced himself to drag his gaze up from the body Sam had dropped, to meet with wide hazel eyes.

  
The guy was a stranger, right? They didn't mean anything to each other, right? Then why did his guy twist so painfully at the horrified expression on the other's face as he looked at him?

  
"You could have killed him, Dean!"

  
"B-But Sammy, I didn't-!" This sounded bad. Sam was the weird one, having come up outta nowhere bearing news of an attack, which came to pass; and now he was looking at Dean as if he was the freak! It seriously stung.

  
Sam opened his mouth to retort and Dean winced, already knowing the million things wrong with throwing a skate at someone. The guy could have died if the wrong end had collided with his head.

But it hadn't. And Dean wasn't about to make a habit of launching his skates at people at random! Couldn't Sam see that?

  
So he did the only thing he could think of to not look like a person who regularly killed others to Sam and interrupted the taller man before he could even get a word out.

  
"And you-! Don't think I forgot about you comin' here with that damn warning in the first place!," he glared accusingly at him. "How did you know I'd be attacked?"

  
The slight shift coming from the man Sam had dropped made Sam pause again and he gestured to the prone body at his feet.

  
"Help me tie him up first. He has to be arrested for assault, and I don't want him coming at ya again if he comes to."

  
Giving him a glare, because who's being weird now, Dean moved to help him tie the still unconscious man anyway, using the man's belt and laces, and a discarded tie Sam found, to do the job.

  
Once the man was securely tied up, Dean straightened up and fixed Sam with a hard look.

  
Sighing, Sam rolled his eyes and seemed to be about to answer, but he stilled before a smile slowly pulled at his lips.

  
"What?!" Dean demanded, getting impatient now.

  
"I'll tell you," Sam said, that annoying, placating tone having creeped back in his voice. "Just after..."

  
Just after what?! Dean opened his mouth to demand just that and maybe launch into annoyed, empty threats, but instead he had something warm and soft pressed against his lips and a tongue in his mouth.

 

It was just as the panic was starting to sink in that Dean responded by pressing harder against him, by what Sam assumed was standing on his tiptoes, to deepen the kiss. Sam was too lost in the magic of the delicate but firm pressure against his lips to be properly awed at having kissed Dean friggin Smith and not being punched in the face.

  
Feeling the intense burn in his lungs from lack of oxygen, he brought up a hand to Dean's face, brushing the backs of his fingers lightly over his defined jawline before tilting his face up so they could kiss and not have to break away for breath. Doing so earned him a huffed a huffed laugh from the other before he pulled away, giving Sam a wry smile and taking a glance at the ceiling above them.

  
"Did ya plan it?"

  
Sam glanced up at the mistletoe above them once more, then gave a slight shake of his head, still feeling oddly afraid despite Dean's surprisingly soft expression.

  
"I-... Are you mad I kissed you?"

  
"I should be," Dean said seriously with a raised eyebrow. "But you were only followin' the rules," he added with a grin and tilted his head in the direction of their mistletoe.

  
Finally feeling like he could breathe again, he was about to ask Dean if he could kiss him again, since they were still standing under the mistletoe when there was a loud, mocking clap from somewhere near the door.

  
Dean whirled around in his arms- and when had his arms gone around the shorter male?!, just as Sam's head whipped up to see Dean's manager in the doorway.

  
"I must say this was a surprising twist! It wasn't part of the plan, mind you... But then again, maybe I shouldn't be surprised at all, seeing how you Winchesters never seem to play exactly by the book."

  
"Y-You sent that man to kill me?"

  
The older man rolled his eyes, having nothing short of contempt in them. "Oh please. It was all part of the plan- you wouldn't have gotten hurt."

  
Before either of them could say anything, a smug smile formed on the manager's face- a hideous thing really, before he continued. "Maybe this'll jog your memory, boys," and proceeded to snap his fingers.

  
Instantly all color seemed to fade from the room as everything started to crumble ans deteriorate, leaving only Sam and Dean in the ruins of a building besides the 'manager.'

  
But that was okay. Because he remembered everything now. He remembered how the dreams of an alternate life weren't dreams- they were snippets of his life. That they weren't Sam Wesson and Dean Smith, but Sam and Dean Winchester.

  
Dean seemed to remember too, because he was cussing obscenities at that son of a bitch Zachariah while the other just looked on unimpressed, if mildly disgusted.

  
"It was to teach you a lesson!," he finally exploded.

  
"What kind of lesson?!" It was Sam who bellowed the question.

  
Shooting him an irritated glance, the angel turned back to Dean before biting out the answer.

  
"That you'll fall into the roles set out for you no matter what. You're supposed to give in! You're supposed to bend, for the better good!"

  
Here, he looked at Sam again. "Because if Sam Wesson hadn't acted, Dean Smith would have died."

  
The look Dean fixed him with could melt mountains. "Neither am I Dean Smith, nor is he Sam Wesson. So get. Lost."

  
Surprisingly, the annoying dick of an angel obeyed the gritted out order, vanishing instantly into thin air.

 

* * *

 

  
"Well, whaddaya know..."

Sam quickly finished the salt line before locking the door to make his way over to his brother.

"What is it Dean?"

  
Dean just gave him a pointed look before grinning and gazing up at the ceiling.

  
Having a pretty good idea now of what it was, Sam followed Dean's gaze and felt a tentative smile pull at his lips.

  
"We shouldn't break the rules, huh?"

  
"We could," Dean responded slowly. "But it would be a shame."

  
Chuckling softly, he reached out and pulled Dean in by the waist, settling his hands on his hips as his brother raised his arms to lace them around his neck.

  
Surprisingly enough, Dean tasted of mint; and not so shockingly, he smelled of old leather, and whiskey and cheap soap.

  
Sam loved it.


End file.
